It is understood that time zones exist. Here in the good old US of A we have several of these time warps. In fact I still have yet to master the television advertisements that claim 9E8C, pacific blah blah, what? Just tell me when the damn show is on! Thank god for the Guide button on the remote. But my incompetence is not the topic at hand today, for once.
It has happened. Another ex boyfriend is engaged. Okay, I use the word “ex” loosely, I am pretty sure we might have dated for two months. Regardless, this kind of crap freaks the hell out of me. I said, “another” because I already have one that is married and possibly others at this point by now.
My first college sweetheart; aahhhh, the typical university love story… made out at a keg, conducted regular walks of shame and then eventual coupledom. Long story short, we dated for a year and a half, maybe two years.. hhmm my memory fails me, but I don’t remember a 2 year anniversary present so must have been 1 and half. Anyways, after the break up things were friendly, but space was given. He told me he had found someone new. Great. I had found a few someones new too. All was good. Then, one day, while looking at the Facebook recent album uploads I saw it, “Blahablah and Blahdblah’s Wedding!” WHAT??? Ok, deep breath, he was a few years older anyways.. but really!? Crap. I wasn’t prepared for ex boyfriends to make nuptials, let alone have photos in my face.
After I got done crying. “good for him, he deserves the best… why meeeeeee? We broke up for a reason. He looks so happy. I like her dress… my dress will be prettier, that bridesmaid is fat, what a stupid… I mean god that is just precious, so so SO happy for everyone…” You get the picture. So, let’s see, I was 23 then. He must have been 26.
Within the next year numerous couples I knew tied the knot (some of which I wasn’t invited to, ahem). A sorority sister here, a highschool friend there… And now it is a normal thing for me to search for an old friend and forget their last name has changed. And don’t get me started on babies…
While “young” marriage happens around the world. It is undeniable that the Midwest has the largest percentage of these early beginnings. I can’t blame them, I know what it’s like. You can only go on the dating scene for so long, before a) some reputation acts as your predecessor and/or b) you or your friends have slept with all the good ones.
So what happens if you don’t get married? You move to Barcelona and then maybe LA (just an example). Somewhere where you’re not a Spinster at 27. I try to remind myself that 25 isn’t old. That I’d be miserable in a Townhome in Urbandale. That I wouldn’t be flying around the world with my current and wonderful novio. But I would be lying if I said that deep down inside, my Minnesota clock wasn’t occasionally screaming at me to pay attention to my ovaries and to hurry back to the midwest while there’s still a chance.
So… congratulations on the engagement. And congratulations to all the others that are heading in that direction. And thank you Facebook for being my number one source when it comes to formers moving on.